Out of the Smoke

by Gerald N. Lund

  “What?”

  “I found an edelweiss on one of our treks.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, at the foot of a tiny trickle of water coming out of a snow bank. I’ve been hoping and hoping to find another one.”

  Jolanda poked her with her elbow. “So will you press it and dry it and send it to Benji?”

  Lisa felt her face warm as she poked her back. “None of your business!”

  “I think it’s really neat that you still write each other. That you’re still friends after all these years.”

  “But that’s the promise of the edelweiss, Jo. To be friends forever. That’s why I sent it to him.” Lisa’s voice became dreamy. “And why I want one of my own now. Ten years. It was ten years ago that they came for the Passion Play. I wasn’t even four yet, but I still remember it very clearly. I thought he was soooo handsome!”

  “He still is!” Jo said enviously.

  “But me and Abby are still good friends too. We write all the time. I’m so excited that they’re coming again in two years.” She felt herself blushing again. “I can’t wait to see them again.”

  Another poke, harder this time. “Them?”

  “Oh, shush!” Lisa laughed.

  Turning around, Lisa looked back. “Hans Otto,” she called. “Stop dawdling. Come on.”

  Her brother, who would be seven next month and was in level one at in the elementary school part of the Academy, was off the sidewalk, poking at the shrubbery with a stick he had picked up somewhere. He waved but made no effort to go faster.

  “Miki told Oma Eckhardt that there was a boy who really liked you at camp!” Jo was saying.

  Lisa stopped so abruptly that her arm pulled free of her sister’s.

  “She told you that?!”

  Taken aback by her reaction, Jolanda nodded. “Yes. A boy named Edvard.”

  Lisa relaxed as relief flooded in. “Oh, yes. Edvard,” Lisa said, fighting to sound nonchalant even though her heart was suddenly pounding furiously. “Edvard Gersdorff. He’s from Garmisch-Partenkirchen.”

  “Miki told Grandma that he had a huge crush on you and was very nice.”

  Edvard. Not Günther Dangel. Good. Miki and Gerhardt had both sworn to her secrecy, making her promise that she would tell no one about Günther. When her father had asked her about him the next time she called, she had told him Gerhardt had taken care of the problem for her, and that had satisfied him.

  “Was he cute?”

  “Edvard?” Lisa managed a shaky laugh. “Not really. To be honest, he looks a little bit like a Schnauzer puppy—floppy ears, big round nose, rows of shiny white teeth.”

  “Alisa Maria Eckhardt!” Jolanda slapped her on the arm. “That’s an awful thing to say!”

  Lisa danced away from her second blow, giggling now. “And believe it or not, his nickname is Sparky.”

  As Jo just shook her head, Lisa turned around again and stomped her foot. “Hans Otto Eckhardt! Come right now! I have to get home for my piano lesson.”

  3:21 p.m.

  Alisa was still lost in her thoughts about her experience in the Hitler Youth camp as they passed the greyish, five-story, pagoda-like building called the Chinesischer Turm, or Chinese Tower. Near this landmark, one of Munich’s most unique, was a Biergarten with the same name. With its large outdoor seating area, the beer garden regularly drew large crowds, including a lot of tourists who mixed with students from the nearby Ludwig Maximillian University.

  Lisa was pulled out of her thoughts when Jo smacked her on the arm again. “Lisa, look!”

  Startled, Lisa looked around at the people seated around the tables off to their right. “What?”

  “No, over there.” Jo hissed, pointing forward. “It’s those boys again.”

  A shiver ran up her back when she saw where Jo was looking. Coming out from behind the tower and moving onto the pathway about thirty or forty yards ahead of them were two boys. She recognized them instantly as the two boys that had tried to stop them and flirt with them on Tuesday and then again yesterday. There was no question, it was the same two, even though they were walking away from them and Lisa couldn’t see their faces. When they had first seen the boys on Tuesday, she had assumed they were up from the Haidhausen District, which was just to the south of them. It was a working-class neighborhood with a lot of breweries and pubs. The two were dressed in coveralls and had long, greasy hair, fingernails that were black with dirt, a motley smattering of whiskers, nicotine-­stained teeth, and breath that could fell an oak tree.

  They had been waiting near the west end of the bridge and fallen in behind the girls, whistling and calling out lewd remarks. Lisa, Jo, and Hans Otto had moved into a tight cluster and hurried on, ignoring them. One boy was sixteen or seventeen, Lisa had guessed. The other was maybe a year or two younger. Both were three or four inches taller than she was. She had yelled for them to go away, which only won her a raucous hoot. But when she scooped up a handful of rocks and started throwing them at them like missiles, they backed off enough to get beyond her range and then made faces and jeered at her, calling her names. When she picked up another handful of rocks and started forward, they had taken off, laughing and raising their hands in obscene gestures before disappearing back across the bridge.

  Jo had wanted to tell their parents, but Lisa swore her and Hans Otto to secrecy. Their father was in Nuremberg for a celebration rally, and she didn’t want to worry their mother. The second time was pretty much a repeat of the first, but when Lisa started searching for rocks, the boys melted away into a copse of trees.

  Fortunately, the boys weren’t waiting for them this time. They were moving away in the other direction. Thank heavens!

  “Let’s go back and wait at a table until they’re gone,” Jo whispered, reaching out and clinging to Lisa’s arm to hold her back.

  “Ja, ja!” Hans Otto agreed. “I don’t like them guys.”

  Lisa didn’t answer. She lifted her other hand and shaded her eyes from the sun. Farther on, perhaps another seventy or eighty yards ahead of the boys, two other figures were walking along the path in the same direction as the boys. She squinted and leaned forward. It was two girls, and they looked like they were wearing Academy school uniforms. Even as she peered at them, she saw the taller of the two turn and look around and then take the other one by the elbow and start walking faster. She had obviously seen the two boys following them.

  Jo pulled on her arm. “Let’s wait here, Lisa! Don’t let them see us.”

  She jerked her arm free, suddenly feeling sick. Another hundred yards ahead of the girls was a stand of hickory, walnut, and linden trees that lined the small creek that formed the western border of the park. Even though the sun was only halfway down the sky, the area beneath the trees was in deep shadow. And suddenly Lisa guessed what the boys had in mind.

  She whirled. “Jo. Take Hans Otto back to the restaurant. Leave him there with someone. Find some men and tell them there might be trouble. Tell them to come as quickly as they can. And tell someone to call the police.”

  Jo was stunned as her face turned to chalk. “No, Lisa!” But Lisa had already turned and was off in a hard sprint.

  Her first thought was to catch up to the boys and try to distract them until Jo brought help, but she shook that off immediately. If it had been one, maybe. Two were odds she didn’t like. And she would reach them long before Jo could bring help. With that realization, she turned slightly to the right and left the path, angling across the grass for the tree line, legs pumping like a sprinter’s. On the grass, her feet made no noise, and she was relieved to see that neither boy turned in her direction. By the time she passed them, there was fifty yards or more between them. They turned when they saw her running, but she averted her head and they quickly lost interest.

  The two girls were another matter. Lisa saw the taller one turn to look behind
them again. Seeing that the boys were closing the distance between them rapidly, she grabbed the shorter one by the hand and they broke into a half-run, half-walk. Lisa heard one of the boys call something and saw them increase their pace as well.

  Feeling like her heart was going to burst inside her chest, and not just from the sprint, she raced into the dimness of the trees and pulled to a halt. Leaning against the nearest trunk, she peered back. The girls were now running but were still fifty or so yards from the trees. The boys were running too, and closing fast. Gerhardt’s training by the bleachers was running through her mind. “Just remember four things. They will make all the difference. Surprise! Distraction! Speed! Force!”

  She drew in a quick breath and took off. Surprise! If she could just cross the path without them seeing her, they wouldn’t be expecting her there. She leaped across the narrow creek, nearly going down when her feet slipped on the damp grass. But she recovered, checking to make sure she was hidden by the trees as she hurried on. When she crossed the footpath, she went another twenty yards and then leaped back across the creek and dropped into a crouch behind some shrubbery. She covered her mouth with both of her hands as she hungrily gulped in air. Then she crawled forward to where she could see through the trees to the pathway.

  She was barely in time. The two girls—who both wore Academy uniforms, and whom she recognized from last year, though she didn’t know them—were running flat out now, hair flying, feet pumping, eyes wide with fright. But as they entered the tree line, the two boys overtook them, yelling at them to stop. Each boy grabbed one of the girls by the arm and dragged them to a halt.

  The younger girl screamed, but a burly male voice cut her off. “Shut your trap, witch, or I’ll knock your block off.”

  Lisa heard one of the two girls start to sob. Lowering herself to the ground, not caring that her dress was going to get filthy, she started edging her way closer to the path.

  As she got within about ten feet, still obscured by low-­hanging shrubbery, she saw that the two girls were both crying now and clinging desperately to each other. The boys were circling them like a couple of rabid dogs. She looked around for a dead branch or something, but there was nothing. This was Germany. Germans kept their parks and even their forests as neat and clean as their own front yards. She turned her head. Jo was just coming into view near the tower. She was running and had three men with her. But they were still three or four hundred yards away, and what was going down here wasn’t going to wait long enough for them to arrive.

  Lisa swung back around as the older boy stepped up to the taller of the two girls. This close now, she could see that they were clearly sisters—one about her age or a little older and one about ten, like Jo. Both were quite beautiful, and both were terrified. The boys had positioned themselves so as to block any escape down the path in either direction. After their encounter with them earlier in the week, Lisa had given them nicknames—Little Pig for the younger one, Bully Boy for the bigger of the two—though she had not shared that with Jo.

  She felt a chill shoot through her as she saw something she had missed before. Both boys carried short lengths of what looked like sawed-off shovel handles. Her fear only deepened as the two hooligans exchanged looks. What Lisa saw in their eyes she instantly recognized. Lust! Like Günther Dangel!

  A hot rage engulfed her. She reached up and carefully slipped the strap of her book satchel off of her shoulder and started wrapping the strap around her right hand. Bully Boy reached out and touched the older girl’s cheek. She recoiled, crying out. He cackled raucously. “Hey, little girl, settle down. Ain’t gonna hurt you. Just wanna talk. Take a look at what you have in your satchels.” He leered at her. “Maybe sneak a kiss or two.” He looked at his friend. “Eh, Kurt?”

  Kurt cackled like a wild turkey.

  The girl jerked her head away as Bully Boy leaned in closer, his lips puckering, but he grasped her chin and yanked it back around. Lisa quietly rose up into a crouch. But she froze when Bully Boy recoiled back. “What the. . . .” Still gripping her by the chin, he turned her head back and forth, peering at her in disgust. Then he swore and uttered one word. “Jüdin?” He turned his head and spat in disgust.

  The girl stiffened as though he had stabbed her with a knife. “Nein! Nein!” Her face instantly drained of all color. “I am not!”

  He raised his club high above her head. “You are too a Jewess!” he roared.

  The girl’s head dropped as she shook it back and forth, closing her eyes. Tears squeezed out and trickled down her cheeks, but all she said, in a bare whisper, was, “Please don’t hurt us. Please don’t hurt us.”

  Lisa, stunned by this sudden turn in events, didn’t wait to see how Bully Boy responded to the girl’s plea. She leaped to her feet and stepped out into view. “Hey, Bully Boy!” she said in a gravelly voice.

  Both boys whirled, clubs coming up defensively. “You?” Bully Boy cried as his eyes widened in recognition.

  The second word of Gerhardt’s formula came back like bell ringing in her head. Distraction! “Of course it’s me,” she said, putting her free hand on her hip and striking a provocative pose. “And I’m alone today. No little sister or brother to bother us or run home and tell Mommy.”

  Enticement!

  She looked at the taller girl in disgust. “And instead of kissing this stupid cow—” She glanced briefly in the girl’s direction and then licked her lips seductively. “How about kissing a real woman?”

  The boy gaped at her in disbelief, but then slowly the club lowered and a wolfish grin spread across his face. Lisa moved three steps closer, swaying her hips as she glided forward. She let the satchel drag along the ground behind her, as if she were about to drop it. “So?” she asked again, beckoning with her other hand. “What will it be? Me or her?”

  Speed! Force!

  The desire in his eyes was like hot coals. “Oh, yeah!” he cried as he opened his arms. “Come to Ernie, baby.”

  Lisa stepped into them, tipped her head back, and kissed him hard on the mouth. She pulled back. “You like that, Bully Boy?” she whispered.

  “OH YEAH!”

  Lisa grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him closer. He was almost panting now as his mouth came open and his tongue flicked out. Then, just when he was inches away, she yanked his head down with all the force she could muster as she reared back and then head-butted him in the face. At the same instant she drove her knee into his groin. Just as she had done that night with Günther Dangel.

  He shrieked in pain and dropped like a sack of grain. He curled up into a ball, rolling back and forth as he covered his privates with both hands, moaning piteously.

  Seeing that he was down, Lisa whirled around to face Little Pig while yanking her satchel up. His eyes were like bowling balls and his jaw had dropped open as he gaped at his buddy. She didn’t wait for him to recover. She whirled her arm twice, swinging the satchel like a slingshot, and then stepped forward and let it fly into the side of Little Pig’s head. There was one sharp cry and he went down like a felled log.

  Breathing hard, and frantically spitting out the taste of Bully Boy, she stepped over to the younger boy to make sure he was down. He was. Probably the math book, she decided. It weighed about three pounds alone. Then she turned back to Bully Boy. His eyes were open, staring at her in horror as he writhed back and forth, but he was no longer a threat. Only then did she turn to the two girls.

  They were clinging together now, gawking at her, clearly dazed at the swiftness of what had just unfolded. The younger one was sobbing hysterically.

  “I’m sorry I called you a stupid cow,” Lisa said, moving over to them. “It was the first thing that came into my head.” Her hands were shaking violently now, and she clamped them into her armpits.

  Before anyone could say anything, there was a distant shout from behind them. Lisa turned and looked back the way she had com
e. Through the trees she saw men running hard toward them. Farther back, Jo and Hans Otto were running alongside two policemen. Lisa nearly collapsed with relief. “Wunderbar!” she exclaimed. She looked at the girls. “Help is coming.”

  The older sister was staring through the trees. “You called the police?” she cried. Her eyes were wide with horror.

  “I . . . I told my sister to,” Lisa stammered, surprised by the fear in the girl’s eyes.

  The girl spun around, looking toward her sister. “Leyna!” she cried. “We have to go. Now!”

  “What?” Lisa cried. “No, wait! They’re coming to help us.”

  “We must go!” One hand shot and touched Lisa’s arm. “Danke,” she cried, and then she started quickly away. But she only went two or three steps before whirling back around. She rushed back and grabbed Lisa’s shoulders. “Please! Don’t say anything about us being Jewish.”

  “But—” That knocked her back. Had Bully Boy guessed right?

  “Please!” Then she turned again and, dragging her sister into a run, they took off down the path and across the small bridge that crossed the creek. Ten seconds later they were gone.

  Totally confused by this unexpected turn, Lisa stared down at Bully Boy, running over what had just happened in her mind. Then, as the first of the men drew nearer, she made up her mind. She walked over to the boy and put a foot on his neck to stop his thrashing about. Eyes wide, he froze in place. She leaned down. “Listen to me, Pigface! Those girls are not Jewish. They go to our school. Our school doesn’t allow Jews.”

  That got his attention. “I . . . I think they are.”

  She kicked him hard in the ribs, causing him to howl in pain, and then bent down now and hissed in his ear. “If you say so much as one word about thinking they are Jews—which they are not—I’m going to tell the police that you tried to rape me. Do you hear me? You’ll go to prison for the rest of your life. Understand?”